


In Chains

by rebeccavis



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 11:58:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebeccavis/pseuds/rebeccavis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Margaery Tyrell finds herself growing unexpectedly close to the man her betrothed King Joffrey is holding captive in the dungeons of the Red Keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Order

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written in several parts as part of a Drabble a Day challenge I did over on Tumblr, so it might come across as kind of bitty when it's read as a whole fic. It's more like a series of vignettes rather than one continuously flowing story, but I was encouraged to post it by my dear best friend and I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless!

“ _Again_ , Ser Meryn.”

Flesh and bone hit flesh and bone, the sound echoing through the Great Hall of the Red Keep as blood dripped to the floor, and Margaery’s expression remained impassive. King Joffrey’s victim had beautiful blue eyes, that much Margaery knew all too well, and she still thought them beautiful when he looked up from the floor, even though the skin around them was bruised purple and green from many a previous beating. He looked squarely at her, and she only hoped her eyes could say some of what she could not allow her face to say.

The thin, battered man before her held her gaze for only a moment, and then something seemed to stir in him and he rose to stand, his hands still bound behind his back, to give Ser Meryn a kick in the knee. The knight didn’t seem too fussed but Joffrey cursed up a storm, and called for another two members of the Kingsguard to restrain the prisoner while he commanded Ser Meryn to beat him further. Margaery’s hand came up momentarily over her heart and she only didn’t close her eyes because Joffrey turned to look at her. She was torn between overwhelming pride that Joffrey's prisioner still had some fight in him and overwhelming sadness as he would only suffer the more for it.

She had made that mistake the first time. Joffrey had brought his new prisoner to the Great Hall to torment him and Margaery had not been able to contain herself, screaming when the first blow had landed and begging her betrothed to stop. She had heard many stories of the Young Wolf, of how he was savage and brutal and turned into a wolf and tore out the throats of men and women and children alike, but they seemed so ridiculous when he was in front of her eyes. He was just a man, no older than her, and all he had ever wanted was justice for his father’s murder. She could not see him as Joffrey did.

“Why did you scream and cry when Ser Boros was hitting the Stark boy?” Joffrey had demanded of her afterwards, “He’s a traitor. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.”

“I believe I would feel sympathy for any man in such a situation, Your Grace,” Margaery had admitted softly, “Traitor or no.”

“You are weak,” Joffrey had snapped at her, “I am going to teach you to be strong if you are to be my wife.”

And so he had. He had brought Robb Stark in regularly, whenever he felt like it, and made various members of his Kingsguard hit his face and his body until he fell over in pain, often spitting up blood onto the floor. Joffrey himself never laid a hand on him, and Margaery imagined it was most likely because he was a little afraid of the other man no matter what he said. He would not have him killed, either, at least not while his side still held Jaime Lannister a prisoner. Joffrey seemed to rather enjoy having Robb to torment, besides, and he would sit and watch with a gleeful expression whilst giving out orders to Ser Boros and Ser Meryn and whoever happened to be around. Margaery had to watch, too, and it had made her shed tears too many times to count. Gradually, however, she had realised that crying and showing emotion only made Joffrey tell his guards to continue for longer, only made Robb suffer more. She had trained herself, slowly but surely, to not let a single emotion show. Margaery saved her tears for later, for when she was alone in her chambers, for when she could lie on her bed and let them all come pouring out, but in the Great Hall itself she neither said nor did anything. It was better for Robb that way.

“Thank you,” Robb said softly to her late that night, and his gaze told her it was for more than the napkin she’d brought folded among her skirts containing food from her supper. He was always courteous towards her. It was easy to forget he was a lord’s son when she looked at him in his current state, but it was always apparent when he spoke. “You can’t keep doing this,” he added, “If the king finds out…”

“If the king finds out I can make up a lie easily enough,” Margaery whispered, “Do not worry yourself over me.”

“It’s a bit late for that, I believe,” Robb admitted. He tucked into his food eagerly, eating every bite and then handing the napkin back to Margaery when he was done. They had to be careful not to leave even a crumb of the food he wasn’t supposed to have. 

“You fought back today,” Margaery remarked, sitting herself close to the bars of his cell, “I can’t believe you still have the strength to fight back.”

“Well, I have been eating better as of late,” Robb noted, managing something that almost resembled a smile as he looked at her.

Margaery felt tears brimming in her eyes and a look of surprise registered on Robb’s face as she reached through the bars to take his hands in hers. He had always kept his distance from her when she had come to visit him, but his expression when she brought him in close told her that it had not been because he wanted to. She bent her head and pressed a kiss to each of his hands in turn while he looked on, stunned.

_He will be free_ , she decided in that moment. _He will be free no matter what it takes_.


	2. Transformation

In the beginning and sometimes even now, Robb wondered if she came to visit because she pitied him. There had been days where he had shamefully pitied himself when he’d been locked up in the dungeon of the Red Keep, but he didn’t think he’d be able to stand it if that was how she felt about him. However, despite the compassion she’d always shown him, he was certain he’d never once seen pity in her eyes. She had never spoken to him as if she was above him, never once tried to console him with platitudes, never once made him feel as if he owed her anything. She had only ever offered him practical help in the form of food and water, and now that he had both as well as a degree of comfort in his cell in Traitor’s Walk, she still continued to visit him. It was without a doubt always the best part of his day.

”I hope you don’t mind my saying that I am glad your beard is growing in again,” Margaery said to him one afternoon, giving him a warm smile, “It suits you.”

Robb ran his hand over his own chin, unable to help but smile himself. He’d had to shave off his beard as soon as he’d been let out of the dungeons because of the state it had been in, but he admittedly was also glad it was growing back. It made him feel more like himself again. “I don’t mind at all,” he answered her.

He looked very different now than he had when they had first met, of that he was certain. His skin was clean, he was no longer as thin and his lips weren’t parched. His many bruises and cuts had healed and were healing, leaving behind only the scars of King Joffrey’s reign. Some parts of his body still hurt to move, but as far as he was concerned it was a small price to pay. He was glad to no longer feel embarrassed that a lady was seeing him in such a condition.

He felt different, too. There had been times after he’d first been taken prisoner when he’d given up the will to fight, given up the will to escape, given up even the will to live. He had more than once wished that the gods would take him to join his father, but they hadn’t heard him. Instead, it appeared, they had placed Margaery Tyrell in his life and somehow, very slowly, his determination and strength had begun to return bit by bit. He knew now he could not give up. He was not dead yet.

“It wouldn’t do to have your bannermen not recognise you when you return to them, besides,” Margaery added, “I hear the negotiations with your mother to trade you for the Kingslayer are going well now.”

“Now that Joffrey is out of the picture, you mean,” Robb commented, looking across at her. He wasn’t sure how she had wrangled it but apparently King Tommen allowed a great deal of freedom to his queen because now she actually came into his cell instead of sitting outside it. He hadn’t touched her since the day she had taken his hands in hers, not wanting to risk overstepping any boundary, but sometimes she would sit so close to him that her foot brushed against his leg. He had thought more than once about reaching for her hand but always managed to talk himself out of it.

“Yes. Now that Joffrey is out of the picture things have been a lot better across the kingdoms, in truth,” Margaery remarked quietly, and Robb raised his eyebrows a fraction. She always spoke so freely with him, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she was like this with everyone. He couldn’t imagine she would have survived this long in King’s Landing if she was.

“How did he die, again?” Robb questioned.

“Poison,” Margaery answered immediately, pausing for a moment before she added, “Or so they say.”

Robb wondered if Joffrey had known when he’d agreed to marry Margaery Tyrell that she was a thousand times stronger than he could ever hope to be.


	3. Sunset

Margaery was certain Robb could tell that she was bringing good news from the minute she stepped into his cell. She prided herself on being inscrutable to most people, but with him her mask seemed to fall away. She had allowed him to see her sad when Loras had gone away to Dragonstone, to see her frustrated with Cersei’s treatment of her as of late, even to see her in a rare moment where she had admitted just how tiring it was being married to a little boy who treated her mostly like an older sister. Robb always listened more than he spoke, and being able to share her problems with him was always a relief. It was curious, she thought, that she felt at her freest and her lightest when she was sitting inside a cell.

”They are coming to fetch you after sundown to take you to the meeting ground they’ve arranged with your family,” Margaery explained, giving Robb a small smile, “Not much longer now, Robb. I’m sorry, I have a feeling you will not like many of the terms your mother had to agree to, but at least…”

“I’ll be free,” Robb finished for her, disbelief evident in his voice and in his face as he met her gaze. They had progressed from sitting separated by bars to sitting across from each other to sitting next to each other, so he was close enough that she could read every expression on his face. She could see the surprise, the elation, and then, strangely, a hint of sadness that she had not expected. “So this is…” he said, “This is the last time we’ll see each other.”

Margaery bit down on her bottom lip slightly. “I suppose it is,” she remarked quietly.

“Margaery, I just want you to know…” Robb said, “I don’t even know where to begin, or how to tell you how much I…”

Margaery silenced him by pressing a finger gently to his lips. She didn’t want to hear what Robb had to say, well aware that it would only make things harder. She thought of leaving there and then, but was slightly taken aback when Robb then gently removed her hand with his and held it up slightly, watching as her fingers curled over his. He brought her hand to his lips again for a gentle kiss, and Margaery found herself wishing she had just let him speak in the first place.

She was certain she moved first, but she was equally as certain that Robb leant forwards to meet her halfway. Their lips pressed against each other in a kiss that was tender and gentle at first and quickly grew into something beyond that. Her tongue slid over his and she felt her heartbeat quicken, surprised to be feeling as she never had before when she’d kissed Renly or Joffrey. She desired him, she realised, and she had known for quite a while now that her feelings for him ran stronger than just friendship. She didn’t want to stop kissing him. She wanted to do it over and over again and let him kiss her neck and her chest and leave her short of breath. But it was not that kind of kiss, she was well aware. This was a kiss goodbye.

Not a word was exchanged between them as they slowly pulled away from each other, and Margaery was thankful for that much at least. She hadn’t realised he was still holding her hand until she rose to her feet, and as she slid out of his grip she felt tears form in her eyes. She quickly turned away before he had a chance to see them. She had shared everything with him, but it couldn’t be that way anymore.

Her mind was so preoccupied and her heart so heavy as she walked away from Robb’s cell that she didn’t notice the other person making her way down the corridor until she almost walked into her. She quickly apologised and only then realised that standing before her was none other than Cersei Lannister.

“There you are, Margaery,” Cersei said, her expression far too relaxed for Margaery’s liking, “They told me I’d find you here.”

“I was just on my way back,” Margaery affirmed, “Do you wish to speak to me? Perhaps we ought to go somewhere else. This place is a rather gloomy location for conversation.”

“I think here is a perfect place, actually,” Cersei answered just as calmly. Margaery was certain something was wrong now, but she could never have expected the words that came out of her mother-in-law’s mouth next.

“Margaery Tyrell, you are under arrest for adultery and high treason.”


	4. Winter

_Winter has come to King’s Landing in more ways than one_ , Margaery thought to herself as she met Robb’s eyes across the snowy godswood of the Red Keep. She barely hesitated for a moment before she lifted her skirts and ran to him, feeling like a younger, more innocent girl again rather than the queen she was. The snow had been falling all night and snowflakes stuck to her clothes and hair as Robb’s strong arms caught her, bringing her in close enough to feel the warmth of his body. She looked up at him and barely caught her breath before her lips were on his and she was kissing him open-mouthed. Despite how shaken she was, despite everything, she found herself smiling against his lips. She didn’t think anyone would be able to spy on them very successfully in the godswood in the snow and even if they did, she did not care. She had no idea which kiss would be their last.

”You shouldn’t have done that,” Margaery breathed, barely breaking from him, “Gods, Robb, why did you do that? What if you had died?”

“You know why I did it,” Robb answered simply.

“Say it, Robb. Please,” Margaery was slightly surprised to hear herself utter. She knew how selfish she was being but she wanted to hear it, just once, from somebody who actually meant it.

“I love you,” Robb said, “I love you hopelessly, desperately, with every breath I have left in me.”

His words were said with utmost sincerity, but Margaery already knew the truth of them long before he had voiced them. Robb Stark had been a free man, but he had volunteered to be her champion in a trial by battle after Cersei had accused the young queen of bedding several other men among many crimes. They hadn’t been able to speak to each other during in court or share anything more than occasional looks but whenever he’d met her gaze she’d never seen him look questioning, never seen even a hint of doubt in his eyes. He had been a free man and he had volunteered to fight an opponent for her freedom, and he had won.

“I love you, Robb,” Margaery whispered in return, tears forming in her eyes. She kissed him again and again, never wanting to pull away, never wanting to leave his arms. It was cold outside but she felt heat stirring inside her with her body pressed up against his.

“You mustn’t say such things to me, sweet, beautiful Margaery,” Robb uttered, pulling away slightly only to wrap his arms around her in an embrace. She could feel the sadness in his voice when he spoke again. “Else I won’t be able to leave.”

“What do you mean?” Margaery questioned, feeling her mouth go dry.

“For the Wall,” Robb continued, but Margaery still looked none the wiser, “I thought you knew…it was part of the terms of my release. I am to take the black and leave my brother to be Lord of Winterfell. I believe there’s talk of marrying him to Myrcella.”

 _Cersei must have added that particular condition later_ , Margaery realised. She felt fresh tears trickle down her cheeks, and try as she might she couldn’t make them stop. The thought of Robb as a member of the Night’s Watch, never to know the love of any wife at all even if wasn’t her, was more painful than she thought possible.

“Margaery…” Robb began, looking on the verge of falling apart himself, but Margaery immediately hushed him.

“No, you’re right,” Margaery admitted, “We shouldn’t…we’ll only…we shouldn’t make this even harder than it already is.”

She turned from Robb because she knew she had to, because she knew she couldn’t watch him walk away. The wind’s bitter chill felt like it was freezing her down to her bones as she wrapped her arms around herself.


	5. Simple

Robb recognised the woman stood before him the minute he set eyes on her. She had changed, it was true - and so had he, he was well aware of that. When they had last seen each other he had been a boy of nineteen, now he was a man of forty-five. The hair on his head and in his beard was going grey, and more than twenty years on the Wall had taken its toll on him, leaving him with a weathered face and several scars on his body. She, however, was still incredibly beautiful to his eyes, graceful and elegant in her age. There was a sadness in her eyes, though, that was unlike anything he remembered seeing in her before - a deep-rooted sadness, of the kind that looked to have been there for so long it had simply become a part of who she was. She met his gaze, her eyes wide, and all he wanted to step forwards and take her in his arms. He wondered if she remembered as well as he did what it was like to kiss her. Under the watchful eye of the young man who was her son and his king, however, he dared do nothing.

”Do you know why you are here, Robb Stark?” King Jaime Baratheon asked from his seat on the Iron Throne. From the day Robb had heard the news of the son that had been born to King Tommen and Queen Margaery, he’d had no doubts that Cersei Lannister had been responsible for naming him after her own dead brother.

“No, Your Grace,” Robb answered, forcing himself to take his gaze off Margaery and look at his king. The boy looked to be about eighteen, and in appearance he seemed more like his father than his mother, but Robb wasn’t sure if that was just his own wishful thinking. “I received your raven commanding me to come to King’s Landing at once, and so I came at once,” he added, “Lord Commander Snow sends his regards.”

“Jaime, what is the meaning of this?” Margaery spoke up for the first time, “I am sure he…I am sure Robb has done nothing but serve the realm with his brothers as part of the Night’s Watch. Why was there a need to trouble him and bring him all the way here?”

“Mother,” King Jaime said, his tone softer. Robb felt a pang in his chest, unable to help but think of his own mother, who had passed away unexpectedly a few years ago and who he’d never had a chance to say goodbye to. “When I asked you if you would ever marry again after Father died, you told me there was only one man you’d ever loved. I always assumed you meant Father, but…”

Robb suddenly felt as if the air had been knocked out of him. He looked at Margaery, whose eyes had widened, and saw her open her mouth and close it again, apparently at a loss for words. Her son the king spoke again before she had the chance to, having produced a piece of paper from his clothing.

“ _My dear Robb_ ,” he began to read while Margaery’s face became pale, “ _I apologise for writing to you out of the blue like this. I shouldn’t be writing to you at all, I know, but there’s nobody I can confide in and I feel like I might explode if I don’t speak to someone. Tommen has recently had his nineteenth nameday, and I know he is being told that soon enough he must come to my bed. I also know that the last thing he wants to do is bed a woman eight years his elder when he can have as many whores of his age as he likes. He has taken after King Robert, it seems, and from what I hear has already fathered a bastard or two. I don’t know what to do, Robb. In my heart I am yours and I have only ever been yours. Sometimes I think about just leaving, about taking a horse and riding to the North, riding to the Wall, riding to you. In my dreams I…_ ”

“Please stop, my darling, I beg you,” Margaery said, tears by now trickling down her cheeks, “I don’t know how you found that letter, but…”

“It was an accident, Mother,” her son explained, pausing for a moment before he asked, “Why didn’t you send it?”

“Because I realised I was being selfish. That I might only hurt Robb if I told him,” Margaery admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor, “And then afterwards I became pregnant with you, and I…I kept it to remind me of my responsibilities, and to remind me that I had a commitment to you.”

The room fell completely silent, and Robb wished that Margaery would look up so that he could at least meet her gaze again. He was stunned by the words of the letter she had written for him so long ago, and all he could think was that if he’d ever received it then he’d probably have ridden to the Red Keep himself.

“Mother, I brought him here for you,” the king said softly, “I have asked Lord Commander Snow to release him from his duties and I will give him permission to stay here, if it is what you both want.”

Margaery shook her head, not seeming to understand. “Why?” she breathed.

“Because for as long as I’ve known you you’ve seemed unhappy, Mother. Because there’s something missing in your life, I know there is no matter how much you deny it, and if it’s this man…” the king trailed off before turning to look at Robb, “Do you still love her?”

“It’s not that simple, Jaime,” Margaery interrupted before Robb could answer, “So much has happened between us. It’s been so long, our lives have changed so…”

“Yes,” Robb spoke up, the singular word echoing through the Great Hall.

Truth be told, Robb could barely remember what had happened after that. The king had left him and Margaery alone at some point, he remembered that, but everything else was a rush of emotion that overwhelmed him in a way he’d never thought possible at his age. All he knew was that it had been far too long since he’d felt Margaery’s lips on his, far too long since he’d felt desire stir for her, far too long since he’d had her body to warm him.

“You’re mad,” Margaery breathed between kisses, “Your vows…”

“I don’t care,” Robb stated.

“I’m too old to bear you any children.”

“I don’t care.”

“But you’d have to live here in the Red Keep,” Margaery protested further, “And I have a son, and…”

“Margaery, I love you. I loved you then and I love you still. I have lived for a cause, but I haven’t really _lived_ ,” Robb affirmed, “However much time I have left on this earth, I want it to be with you.”

He managed to lose count of how many times she whispered that she loved him in return during that night, and he was certain he would never tire of hearing it. Their lives had been nothing if not complicated, that couldn’t be denied, and he imagined that when the time was right they would discover the wounds time had caused in each of them. For now, though, he was content to lie with her in his arms, her naked body pressed against his. In the end, she made everything simple.


End file.
